


in the colorless delight

by kirael



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Bureaucracy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Modern Era, Secrets, Unconventional Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9483824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirael/pseuds/kirael
Summary: When Alexander first meets Thomas Jefferson, he can't help but pin him as an arrogant, self-righteous alpha. It turns out he's completely, utterly wrong.





	

In the morning, Alexander sprays on a heavy scent-neutralizer and dresses himself in a suit that outlines the masculine set of his jaw and the sharp turn of his shoulders.

The newcomer's arriving today, and Alexander is well versed in giving off a good impression. And, well, if that impression involves hiding a bit of what Alexander is, then it's a worthy sacrifice.

"Sir," Alexander says while he walks with Washington, "I still don't endorse your choice for Secretary of State. I really advise you to rethink."

Washington doesn't look at Alexander. "Thomas Jefferson is a fine choice," Washington says. "He'll be arriving in a few hours. Please try and stay civil."

Alexander bites down on his tongue so that he doesn't comment. Washington's clearly made up his mind.

At the end of the day, Washington calls his cabinet together to greet their latest addition.

"This is Thomas Jefferson," Washington says, gesturing to a tall figure dressed a horrid combination of magentas and purples. He holds his head high, his back straight, confidence and arrogance exuding from every pore in his body.

Alexander scowls and thinks, Ugh. Alpha. He looks Jefferson up and down. Admittedly hot.

"Alexander Hamilton," Alexander says, taking the initiative to introduce himself and holding his hand out to shake.

Jefferson takes it tentatively.

Like he's too good for you, Alexander's brain says.

Jefferson's handshake, Alexander notes, is carefully firm, not the natural strength of a self-assured alpha, more like he's spent ages perfecting it. Alexander smiles internally; Jefferson has a weakness.

"A pleasure to meet you," Jefferson says smoothly.

Up close, Alexander can get a good whiff of Jefferson's scent. It's softer than he expected, slightly subdued, but doesn't reveal much about Jefferson himself other than confirming Alexander's initial suspicion of alpha.

Alexander steps back, done playing detective. "I look forward to working with you," he says. Jefferson inclines his head in acknowledgment and then turns to greet the VP, John Adams.

-

Alexander paces in the middle of the room, declaring loudly to the bored government officials the details of his financial plan.

He's been speaking for some time now, but he manages to close with some patriotic bullshit and a soaring metaphor about hope.

Still riding on his high, he barely notices Thomas Jefferson speaking.

"With all due respect, Secretary Hamilton, I am led to ask how exactly you'll keep out corruption or speculation. Surely the creation of a national bank would drive our country to become less republican, the very foundation, as you recall, of our government." Jefferson lounges casually in his chair, twirling a pen in his hand.

Alexander scowls. "Secretary Jefferson, are you implying that having the states stay as disorderly as they are presently would be an optimal path? This bank will only stabilize our country."

Jefferson shakes his head slowly, cutting Alexander off before he can go on another tirade. "You didn't answer the question, Secretary Hamilton. And second, this country you seem so fond of was founded upon the very states' rights that you now ruthlessly step over. And to what means? For your own selfish gains?"

At the implication of corruption, Alexander does launch into what becomes an hour long rant, refusing to let Jefferson get a single word in, only cut off by Washington stepping in and calling it a day.

Alexander storms out of the room, bitterness on his tongue. He waits by the door, arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping impatiently. When Jefferson comes out, amiably chatting to James Madison, Alexander pounces.

Ignoring Jefferson's protests, Alexander hauls Jefferson to a private room and starts yelling, continuing his previous speech that had been cut off.

Jefferson, to his credit, doesn't even look surprised. Instead, he merely looks amused, sitting down halfway through to watch with a cocked eyebrow and a half-smile.

Eventually, even Alexander runs out of steam. "And that's why you suck," Alexander finishes lamely.  He's panting slightly, and he thinks if he stands for much longer he's going to faint. "Move," he snarls, grasping at Jefferson's coat until Jefferson deigns to stands up. Alexander all but collapses into the chair.

Jefferson glances down at his wrist. "Well," he says, "that was all very enlightening. But I'm afraid I have to go. Places to be, things to do, and all. Should I fetch anyone to escort you home?" 

"No," Alexander spits. "This isn't over."

Jefferson pats him on the shoulder condescendingly. "Of course," he says. "Have a good night, Secretary Hamilton." He leaves.

Alexander fumbles around for his phone. He calls Laurens to come and get him.

-

That night, while he lays alone in his bed, he ends up finding scrolling through the email Washington sent out until he can find Jefferson's phone number. It's a bad idea, but when has he ever had good ideas?

 **alex** : And another thing!

_1000 words, cut into about 100 texts, of angry ranting_

**jeffershit** : Go to bed.

 **alex** : ok fuck off

_another 100 words of nearly incoherent rambling_

**alex** : and FUCK YOu.

 **jeffershit** : I'm sending these to Washington.

 **alex** : tattletale huh?

 **jeffershit** : Go to bed, hamilton.

-

In the morning, Alexander burns his tongue on his coffee and searches for over an hour for his car keys until he finally finds them hanging off the ceiling fan, so, needless to say, he's not in what you would call a good mood. Luckily, there's not a lot going on today; he sits at his desk, sending off a few emails and receiving a few calls while working on the latest draft for a bill he wants to introduce - one focusing on Alpha/Omega relations.

When he stops for his lunch break, he jumps up from his seat and runs to Jefferson's office, his papers clutched close to his chest.

"Hi," he pants to the secretary sitting in front of Jefferson's office.

The secretary holds up a finger, then points to the phone. "Sorry," he says, "I'm afraid Mr. Jefferson is out at the moment." His voice raises at the end of the sentence so that Alexander can hear as well. "Yes, of course." He hangs up and glances up at Alexander.

"Uh, yeah," Alexander stutters. "I was looking for Secretary Jefferson."

The secretary frowns as the phone starts ringing again. "Sorry, sir, Mr. Jefferson is out today. If it's something important, I can-"

Alexander shakes his head. "No, it's okay, I'll just talk to him when he gets back."

-

Jefferson doesn't come back for a little less than a week, though he does end up working almost entirely through email and through phone conference calls. On the few occasions when Alexander gets a chance to talk to him and hear his face, he notices how Jefferson's voice is audibly weakened, and Jefferson excuses himself halfway through.

Alexander, more than once, finds himself giving in and texting Jefferson, though they never really talk about anything important.

-

 **alex** : u sick?

 **jeffershit** : stop talking to me

-

 **jeffershit** : yes, im sick

 **alex** : it's the middle of spring

 **jeffershit** : im sick

 **alex** : ok, ok, no need to get all defensive, jeez

 **jeffershit** : i hate you.

 **alex** : aww love you too sweetheart <3 xoxoxoxoxo

-

 **jeffershit** : catch me up

 **alex** : i'm pretty sure washington's keeping you pretty updated

 **jeffershit** : straight from the horse's mouth and all

 **alex** : are you comparing me to a horse?

 **jeffershit** : no of course not

 **alex** : it's 3 in the morning why are you awake

 **jeffershit** : says the person who's also awake

 **alex** : civil service never sleeps

 **jeffershit** : i work in government too

 **alex** : you're sick

 **jeffershit** : fine

-

 **alex** : adams

 **jeffershit** : what about him

 **alex** : he's the worst person i've ever talked to, and no, that's not including you. if i included you he'd be the second worst

 **jeffershit** : ??? isn't adams in your party

 **alex** : yeah but he's horrible

 **jeffershit** : huh

 **alex** : what?

 **jeffershit** : oh sorry got to scram

 **alex** : what?

-

On Jefferson's first day back, Alexander catches him walking through the halls, holding a large cup of coffee.

"Hey!" Alexander yells.

Jefferson looks around for a bit before he realizes it's Alexander. "Oh," he says. "Hello." He checks his watch discreetly - or at least, he tries. "William told me you needed to talk to me."

William? Oh, his secretary. Of course. Alexander adjusts the small bag slung over his shoulder so that he isn't putting all the weight onto one side of his back. "Right," he says. "I need you to review a bill."

Jefferson's eyebrows raise skyhigh. "What makes you think I'd even look over any of your proposals?" He sticks his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket, seemingly not caring if he looks disheveled.

Alexander resists the urge to roll his eyes. "It'd affect you," he offers. "And it's not much about finances, which I know isn't your strong point. Bipartisan support would help."

Jefferson's eyes narrow at the subtle insult. "May I remind you of your job, Secretary Hamilton?" He puts extra emphasis on the word "Secretary."

Alexander shrugs, bouncing up and down slightly in impatience. Too much coffee, maybe. He needs to start cutting down on caffeine. "C'mon," he says. "It's not like you're doing much."

"What?" Jefferson steps back slightly, in shock of Alexander's blatant disrespect.

"Mmm, yeah," Alexander says, "you were gone for like, a full week and we got on pretty well. Better actually." As soon as the words escape his lips he immediately regrets it. He can see Jefferson start shaking (in anger?), his face growing darker. Strange, he thinks distantly through his regret. Alphas aren't typically this prone to expressions of supposed weakness. He looks - and Alexander can't believe he's admitting this while Jefferson's almost spitting fire - almost adorable, his face flushed and his eyes wide in shock.

"If this is your way of convincing me, you're not doing a really good job," Jefferson says coldly, though his voice wavers slightly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go." He shoves past Alexander, ignoring his pleas.

-

Alexander goes home and starts typing. He revises almost every paragraph in the first draft of the proposal and ends up sending out to not only Laurens but also Burr and Lafayette, attached with a note that reads, "Please read over and send to Jefferson if possible."

He gets back a reply from Lafayette only: "Thomas Jefferson?"

Alexander sends back another email while making hot chocolate: "He's one of the most popular candidates from the other side."

When he sits down with his mug, there's another reply from Lafayette: "Weird choice, Alex. Wouldn't it be better to send to James Madison? Get an actual alpha's perspective."

Alexander laughs at the dig at Jefferson and starts dialing Lafayette's number so they can talk properly.

-

Alexander's heats have never been consistent, and this time is no exception.

"Won't be coming in for the next few days," he croaks into the phone. "Heat leave." Most omegas’ heats are manageable, but Alexander is not one of them.

He lets out a low moan as soon as he sets down his cell phone. The wetness between his legs ache with the pain of it, and he thinks of the chest hidden in his closet, which only causes more slick to rush out between his thighs. He stumbles out of bed, steadying himself with the edge of the cabinet and slowly makes his way to his closet, where he fumbles through his clothes until he reaches the chest.

Alexander moves back to his bed, a long, garishly colored cock in his hands, and feverishly strips off all his clothes.

As he fucks himself on the dildo, he finds himself, oddly enough, thinking of dark magenta fabric sliding across his skin.

-

The force of his orgasm leaves him shaking.

-

In his brief respites, when he isn't horny out of his mind, he reviews legislature and cleans out all of his messages. He's surprised to find a revised version of his bill sent from Jefferson, of all people, and reads it only to find that, huh, maybe Jefferson's ideas aren't all that bad (though he does disregard a large number of the edits). Or maybe that's just his heat-ridden brain talking. When he finishes making changes, he sends it right back.

Three days later, Hamilton finally returns to work, even if the remaining edges of the musky smell of heat still linger, resistant to even the strongest of scent-neutralizers.

Jefferson is the first person he talks to, walking into his office as soon as Alexander sits down in front of his laptop.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jefferson barks as soon as Alexander makes eye contact with him.

Alexander blinks. What?

Jefferson gestures to Alexander's computer. "You sent it back," he says. "I thought it was a onetime deal."

Alexander shrugs. "If you remember, we never actually made a deal. You don't have to look it over if you don't want to. It's your choice."

Jefferson, expression stormy, leaves the room without even a farewell.

Three hours later, Alexander receives another revised version of his bill.

-

 **jeffershit** : i don't want my name attached to it

 **alex** : why not?

 **jeffershit** : it's yours, yours and your buddies if you so wish. just not mine.

 **alex** : why not???

 **jeffershit** : i fail to see how you still have friends, with your incessant barking

 **alex** : i'm going to keep barking if you don't answer my questions

 **jeffershit** : stop

 **alex** : ok fine whatever

-

 **alex** : come over today we're having an edit party

 **jeffershit** : no

 **alex** : it'll be fun.

 **jeffershit** : i'm a grown man who works in a rather high government position. i'm not going to your party.

 **alex** : it's an edit party. where we, you know, edit.

 **jeffershit** : edit what?

 **alex** : whatever you want, you donut

 **alex** : i'll see you at six.

-

 **alex** : hey

 **jeffershit** : what do you want?

 **alex** : nothing

 **jeffershit** : then why contact me?

-

Two months later, Alexander finds himself with a complete bill on his hands, almost sure to pass smoothly through the usual affairs, especially with Jefferson's support.

Amendment: if he has Jefferson's support.

"I refuse to attach my name to that," Jefferson hisses, slamming his hands onto the desk.

The noise is loud and startling, but Alexander only leans back, rolling his eyes. "It's not a deal with the devil, Jefferson. And it'll make you look human, or as human as you can be."

"I have my reasons," Jefferson mutters, then adds, quickly, "Private reasons."

"It won't pass without your support," Alexander says.

"Try." The word is forced out through clenched teeth. Jefferson takes a deep breath. "Please, Alexander."

Alexander, at the sound of his name slipping from Jefferson's lips, a level of intimacy he's not sure he's prepared for, feels all the anger rush out of him.

Jefferson smiles, and Alexander feels like all the air has been punched out. He's never seen Jefferson give a genuine smile before. This one - it lights up his face, making his eyes crinkle at the edges.

"I really hope this passes," Jefferson says, voice soft. "Please understand."

Alexander doesn't, not really, but he tries. "Okay, yeah, gotcha. Don't worry about it." He gives Jefferson what he hopes looks like a reassuring smile but in reality probably resembles more of an angry scowl.

The door shuts behind Jefferson with barely a click.

-

Three days later, Jefferson is absent from work again.

-

 **alex** : where are you?

 **alex** : i'm not presenting this without you, whether you want to participate or not

 **alex** : jefferson!

-

The pieces slowly click together. Jefferson's week-long absence two months ago. Jefferson's likely week-long absence now. Lafayette's odd comment about James Madison which Alexander had first dismissed as a joke. Jefferson's adamant refusal to publicly take part in the introduction of Alexander's alpha/omega bill, which would only draw attention...

Alexander, with little hesitation, grabs his phone.

 **alex** : you didn't tell me you were an omega

He waits almost half an hour before he gets a reply, and by then he's already starting to contemplate driving to Jefferson's place himself to confront him.

 **jeffershit** : i sent you an address for a restaurant. meet me there tomorrow at 7. dress nicely and ask for room 401.

-

The Drum is an elegant, upscale restaurant, with its own miniature waterfall in the front and a dress code that makes most people break out into tears.

Alexander almost feels underdressed in his three-piece suit.

Room 401 is a private room, large and grandiose, but it's been cleared out to only contain a small square table where Jefferson sits, facing the door.

"I took the liberty of ordering for us," Jefferson says as soon as Alexander takes his seat, directly across from each other. "I hope you're in the mood for fish."

For once, Alexander catches Jefferson's proper scent - warm and musky, like standing in the middle of a library, with the unmistakable undertone of omega underneath, the lingering smell of heat trailing behind.

"I discovered this place about a month ago," Jefferson says, swirling his glass of wine around. "They serve excellent liquor."

"They better," Alexander replies. "It must cost a fortune to even be let in."

Jefferson shrugs.

They sit largely in silence until the food arrives: fish, as expected, and a strange meat-and-vegetables dish with some kind of sauce drizzled on it.

"I suppose," Jefferson says carefully when the waitress leaves, "we should stop with all this small talk and allow you to ask the questions you've been dying to ask since you came in."

"You're an omega," Alexander blurts out, and watches as Jefferson's face grows darker - in what? Embarrassment? Shock? Anger?

"Does Washington know?"

Jefferson doesn't look at Alexander, instead directing his gaze at the wine he's swirling around in the glass. "Yes, of course. I asked him not to disclose my...condition."

"Condition?"

Jefferson closes his eyes. "I don't like to say it."

"Why not? It's not a bad word, Jefferson."

"I know. I don't care."

Alexander gnaws at his lip for a few minutes before speaking again. "You don't have to hide, you know. I'm an omega, for one."

"You don't understand," Jefferson says suddenly, his eyes snapping open and focusing on Alexander. The strength of his gaze makes Alexander want to flinch away. "You came here with nothing, Hamilton. A poor, bastard orphan with barely a nickel to your name. What's one more ugly label to you? You have nothing."

Jefferson stabs his fork into a piece of meat, staring down at the juice dripping out from the puncture points. "Omega." He says the word like he's spitting out poison. "My lands, my property, my reputation, the people I'm associated with - can you imagine the scandal if I revealed myself? My father spent half our fortune attempting to hide my condition; I would bring down half of Virginia with me."

The whole time Jefferson is talking, Alexander can feel the anger slowly build up within him, and he trembles on the cusp of exploding in fury and punching Jefferson in the face or something. Instead, he squashes it down.

"That's absolute bullshit," Alexander says.

Jefferson jerks his head up and stares at Alexander. "What?"

"What you just said there? Bullshit. You think you have the right to hide what you are? What you are is an omega, and to avoid it like it's the plague is fucking bullshit. The fact that you were born with a silver spoon shoved up your ass doesn't allow you - doesn't give you the right - to lord over the rest of us - lord over me, like you're somehow worst off."

"You don't-"

"No. Screw you." Alexander stands up. "Goodbye, Jefferson."

It only occurs to him halfway out the door that he may have been a little more insensitive than he needed to.

-

"You're calling me?"

"I'm calling to say I'm sorry."

"No, I'm meant to say sorry. You're right, I-"

"Thomas, listen to me again and shut the fuck up. I was a total dick, okay? I shouldn't have dismissed you and-"

"Alexander, please shut up."

"No. You - you don't have to come out or whatever if you don't want to. It's not your fault."

 _Click_.

-

Alexander sets down the newspaper onto Thomas's desk: "THOMAS JEFFERSON REVEALS OMEGA STATUS."

Thomas has a bottle of what looks like military-grade scent neutralizer on his desk, though he isn't wearing any himself.

"I got you a present," Thomas says, pushing the bottle towards Alexander, a soft smile on his face. "I won't be needing this anymore."

Alexander picks it up, examines it for a second, and places it back on Thomas's desk. "You never know," he says.

Thomas pages through the newspaper, skimming through the articles. "I had hoped they'd be kinder," he admits, gesturing to the cover page article, featuring him and a political cartoon depicting him in a not exactly pleasant situation.

Alexander shrugs. "I recall you personally writing in anonymously to attack me after our first cabinet meeting."

"Never proven."

Alexander doesn't hold back the laughter bubbling out of him. Their attacks and hatred from before feels so muted, like they happened to someone else a thousand years ago.

"So what're you going to do next?" Alexander asks, sitting down in the chair across from Thomas.

Thomas glances briefly at the careful black-and-white print of the newspaper. "Support your bill," he says.

Alexander doesn't even try to hide the shock on his face. "Really?"

"I still have influence, even if a large part of my credibility has been destroyed," Thomas says.

"Thank you," Alexander finally says.

"Of course," Thomas murmurs. His voice is softer than anything’s Alexander heard.

They don't speak for some time. The silence is comforting.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> every comment/kudo is one nazi punched
> 
> talk to me @ my tumblr: [duckmoles](https://duckmoles.tumblr.com)
> 
> also re: the thomas/alexander fight at the end:  
> they're both dicks. both have separate experiences and their reactions are not overreactions in the context of their own lives.


End file.
